#Sorry this took a while as I said: fatally indecisive

[grokebaby]

@parasite-core

Hmmmmmm my oc of choice uhhh (<- is fatally indecisive)

Let's go with Delilah bc she deserves a bit more spotlight!!

(BTW for any future asks please send the question itself as well, ty!! /nm)

2 = What's your oc's orientation + their thoughts about it?

Delilah is an ace lesbian!! I like to think she'd be very gentle and tender if she were to get into a relationship but it's really hard to get close to her and she has little time anyways to focus on her personal life. She loves being an aunt though! I think nearly all the people close to her are allosexual so by comparison she might feel a bit isolated sometimes and lacking someone to talk and relate with about asexuality. That, and the Pride district demons tend to be really invasive or crass if they feel like throwing nasty comments so it's something Delilah has to keep close to her. She has thick skin yeah and doesn't think of herself as the type to need lots of support but it can definitely frustrate her that her aceness is really invisible in her day to day life. Obviously Deirdre and Lassi for example are very supportive to her but they're both kinda slutty so they wouldn't have common ground with her on that, which I can say from experience can feel really isolating. Obviously not saying aces can't be slutty but Delilah herself is sex neutral to averse, leaning more on the latter usually.

She's not terribly interested in dating though and/or has given up things like that due to her profession but Her identity as a butch lesbian is meaningful to her especially since she's a trans woman, so it's definitely been a journey for her. It's hard to put exactly into words rn but ykno how your orientation still affects your personal life and feelings about other people even if you weren't actively on the dating scene? That's true for Delilah as well. I sometimes think she might also be gray or demiromantic as well but regardless, having a partner isn't relevant to her life situation rn and I don't think she could see herself trying to seek one anyway anytime soon. She's content with having her family and (very very) few friends. She's very introverted.

5 = how did you figure out your oc's identity?

Uhh I think it all came soon after I figured out her being a trans woman? I kinda simultaneously decided both she and Xerxes should be trans bc fuck yeah!!!! Lesbian was just bc. Vibes. And butch women go brrr and she had the perfect vibe to be that but her being ace does have some deeper thought behind it. Since she is a butch transbian I kinda wanted some spot of her character to be subversive and I know there's a bit of a gross stereotype around both trans and butch women that portrays them as inherently more sexual and perverse (glances hatefully at terfs), so I wanted to make her ace. I know and see the infantilism often aimed at ace people and I think we need more hardass cool ace characters. Obviously you don't wanna go too far in the other direction and imply asexuality makes someone cold and jaded but you get the point I'm trying to make with this (Tangent: wow I'm just realizing the dumbass shit ace people have to put up with, simultaneously being portrayed as innocent baby beans and also socially awkward cold jerks. Aphobia is a hell of a thing we just can't win can we)

Anyway.

Since she has an overall air of being strong and intimidating, and people could make assumptions about her sexuality based on that, I wanted to do something different there. I personally think aceness adds more interesting depth to her character as opposed to if she were allosexual. I feel like it all ties into an interesting complexity with her strong exterior and soft interior that I just really like. Queer women by beloved

Besides all that, I tend to lean towards making more aro than ace characters since I'm personally more aro than ace, so ykno, wanted to balance it out

Wanna Send me more?

[rockthistowninsideout]

DigiWeek 2021

Day 7 - Home (Free Day)

The Story

   “Uh-oh as much as you want! Now the time is over for Digimon and all those supporting them!”, the blonde girl shouted and finally rounded the ledge. She wore a red-and-blue checked school uniform and a devilish grin on her face.

   “Why would you want to end the Digimon?”, Kamemon cried out.

   “Because they are destructive and cannot be trusted!”

   “Then why do you have a Digimon partner?”, Ryudamon asked.

   The girl, who still hadn’t introduced herself, laughed menacingly. _“_There’s no such thing as Digimon partner. Humans can never live in peace with them. Grizzlymon is merely a tool because it was stupid enough to think the same as you. Wanted to become my partner – Instead I made it my slave. It’s what Digimon deserve to be so mindlessly wrecking.”

   “You tested your black spikes on it, didn’t you?” I asked as I caught a glimpse of a sharp tip protruding from its fur.

   She eyed me with a gaze that swung between annoyance and approval. “Oh yes! It was really eager to be my guinea pig and I have to admit it’s doing an excellent job as my assassin. But then again Digimon are nothing but war machines.”

   “That’s not true!”, Kamemon cried out. It seemed to feel deeply offended by the girl’s sermon.

   And I understood that. Kamemon and Ryudamon had been nothing but kind and helpful, and Frezamon had only attacked us because the black spike had corrupted it. Something truly dire had probably happened in her life. To buy time, I asked “What’s your name?”

   Her eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise. She positioned herself straddle-legged before us, hands on her hips, and declared “I am Tamina and you will soon praise me as the Extinguisher of Digimon!”

   Taki leaned into me “She’s got a serious screw loose. White people and their megalomaniac ideas.”

   While I wholeheartedly agreed, I couldn’t shake the feeling that some serious trauma bubbled close beneath the surface. Before I could elaborate on that note, she cried “Grizzlymon, attack!”

   Her Digimon, or better say, her brainwashed minion, unleashed a Heavy Attack. We could duck down and escape to the right, but the attack was so strong that it shattered the stony ledge we’d been hiding under. The shards were blown in all directions and we only stayed safe because Ryudamon threw itself before us and blocked the shrapnel with its armour.

   I looked to Kamemon. “Are you ready?” It nodded. I gripped my DigiVice tightly and as Kamemon started to glow, it vibrated in my hand. When the evolution was done, it identified the new Digimon in our ranks as Gwappamon. Gwappamon was roughly a head or two shorter than what I remembered DexDorugamon to be. Instead of Kamemon’s helmet it had brown dreadlock-like hair that was crowned by a CD. Around its neck a pair of headphones was slung and its belly was stitched and patched up. It parried Grizzlymon’s attack with a Gwappa Punch.

   “See, you’re also only using the Digimon as fighters”, Tamina yelled in triumph.

   “Well, we don’t want to get ourselves killed by you poor Digimon!”, Taki shouted. “I can only pity it, both of you, actually.”

   “Why do you pity me? Pity yourself for being led to believe that Digimon are good!”

   We jumped apart when Grizzlymon launched its next attack. I ran towards the rocks where the ice sheet was wedged when an idea struck me. We were four and they were only a pair. We should have an advantage here.

   Tamina was concentrated on directing Grizzlymon against Gwappamon who was sparring exceptionally. So I had the chance to communicate with Taki and Ryudamon, at least non-verbally. Taki agreed with my plan: I wanted to lure Grizzlymon away by letting myself be reflected in the ice mirror. That was suppposed to irritate Grizzlymon enough to let its focus slip. Hopefully that gave Ryudamon enough time to jump on Grizzlymon’s back. Then Gwappamon could join forces with Ryudamon and we could pin down Tamina.

   I bent down and started forming snow balls. When I had a small battery of them at my feet, I threw them at Grizzlymon with force. After the third, it turned around annoyed. To be on the safe side, I threw a couple more, one hit it straight between the eyes. With a roar, it charged at me. Well, what it supposed was me, but it actually was my reflection it ran towards. Before Tamina could order it to stop it had hit the ice with a sickening crash, the impact was enough to let the ice splitter into a million pieces.

   Immediately, Ryudamon was on its back, clawing into its think fur. Grizzlymon roared in agony but before it could shake Ryudamon off, Gwappamon had thrown it into the snow. Tamina was shouting, she tore at her hair, until we were at her sides and gripped her arms tightly. “Let. Me. Go!” she yelled repeatedly, though her voice grew smaller and smaller until she was mere wax in our hands. Uncontrolled sobs were shaking her body. Taki and I looked at each other, we both simply felt sympathy now. We led Tamina towards the yurt where she collapsed in front of the entrance.

   I wanted to enter but the darkness that had risen from the chimney had now filled the entire hut so I quickly drew the curtain back and told Taki and Tamina that we had to evacuate right now. Tamina was unable to walk, it seemed that only her rage and misguided mission had been holding her up, so I scooped her up bridal-style and hurried down the mountain as fast as I could.

   In passing Taki shouted towards the Digimon to destroy the yurt – Grizzlymon had now been freed from the spike and was looking around confused. Gwappamon sent the CD on its head spinning which tore open a slit in the fabric of the yurt and Ryudamon set the hut ablaze with its Tera Burst. The yurt exploded and the shockwave pushed me several metres down the slope.

   We took shelter behind a particularly sturdy looking ledge. I sat Tamina down who was sobbing. “Shh” I said. “You are okay now.”

   “Yeah, it’s alright”, Taki seconded. After a brief pause she said “And whenever you’re ready, you can tell us why you hate Digimon so much.”

   Tamina was quiet for a few moments, only furiously wiping away the tears from her eyes. I gave her a handkerchief from my school bag. She took it with a grateful expression but she wasn’t smiling yet. Finally she whispered “My mom.” She hiccuped before she could continue “My mom died when Parrotmon and Greymon fought in Hikarigaoka. She was the only victim when she got hit by fallen debris that’s been, well, I don’t know if it came from a bridge, or an apartment building, of it it was a car. It also doesn’t really matter. I wasn’t afraid to see these two creatures fight when I watched them but when I learned that they were responsible for Mommy’s death, I swore revenge. And over the years, my anger only grew whenever I saw Digimon running rampant in the city and all across the globe. They caused malfunctions and destroyed everything. But as far as I know my mom was the only fatality in all those year. I always felt that the government wasn’t doing enough so I itched for a chance to right it myself.”

   She paused to inhale deeply. “And some time ago, I don’t if it’s been hours, or days, or weeks – time works different in the Digital World – I walked home from school when someone called me down a stairwell between two streets. The voice came from behind a gate between two houses, and when I stepped through it, I was in the Digital World, right in front of the yurt, with Bearmon waiting beside it. The voice told me that it understood my sorrow and wanted to help me with my revenge.”

   A few minutes ago, the girl had wanted to dominate the world but now I could feel nothing but sorry for her. Out of an instinct, I hugged her tightly, and Taki on the other side did the same. Our Digimon came back from their battle, they had evolved to their previous levels.

   When Tamina spotted her former slave she called “Oh Bearmon, I’m so sorry!”, and teared up again.

   Bearmon came towards her to hug her, saying “It’s alright now.”

   Kamemon walked over to me and said “We told Bearmon what happened. It was very understanding.”

   “Thank you for tel-”. Before I could finish the sentence, there was a blast that shook the earth. We flinched, then I peaked over the ledge to discover a huge crater where the hut used to be.

   “That wasn’t us!” Kamemon declared.

   From the crater rose smoke that transformed into tentacles halfway through. “Ah shucks!”, I muttered.

   “Did you really think it was over? What you defeated was merely a puppet, a disposable I would have gotten rid of anytime if the time had come. And the time has come!”

   “That’s it! That’s the voice that called me here. Oh my God!” Tamina wailed, shaking vigorously.

  “Stop it!”, I said firmly. “We need your help now. If we want to win against – well, whatever that is, we need to stand united.”

   Tamina looked frightened at me. “I don’t think I can.”

   I lifted her head gently at the chin to look directly into her eyes. “Listen to me. I’m really sorry what happened to your mom. But the Digimon are not to blame for her death. And neither your vendetta nor your indecision will bring her back. What we need to focus on right now is to save the Digital World, and probably our human world too. I don’t know who’s behind the voice but I’m pretty sure they don’t want to spare us. What Ryudamon over there told me was that the Dark Forces had always aimed for the human world too. It’s the rest of your family who’s in danger now. This is your chance to save them!”

   She stared at me like a hare. Her shaking stopped, she swallowed hard before she nodded. “Okay.”

   “Wonderful.” I briefly hugged her, then pulled her up on her feet.

   We gathered together, back to back, gazing up to the sky. It darkened by the second, the clouds spun faster and faster until some sort of vent had formed. “Prepare for doom!”, the voice thundered.

   Taki grabbed my hand on the left side, Kamemon on the right. “Ready?”, she asked.

   I nodded. “Let’s do this

Gwappamon

Also:

HAPPY ODAIBA DAY!!

Thank you so much for organizing the event @earlgreymon​ and @tangledupblue! It was wonderful to see us Digimon fans reunited again and to share our love for an anime that’s been with us for more than 20 years. 

[curiousconch]

Recovery

Chapter 9 of Ricochet (An Open Heart AU)

Catch up here: Series Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: As Heather is set to recover, will her relationship with Rafael follow the same path? 

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x MC (Dr. Heather Song) | Bryce Lahela x MC (Dr. Heather Song) ft. PLATONIC Dr. Ethan Ramsey

Words: 1.4k+ | Genre: Crime, Suspense/Thriller, Romance

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / themes of physical and emotional trauma 

Author's Notes: This very very very angsty chapter was inspired by a favorite song of mine from Taylor Swift's 1989 album, Clean. Halfway through, I wrestled with the emotions of this chapter, and another song titled Say Something, a haunting duet by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera helped me complete the rest of the narrative.

Thank you so much for taking time to read this series. Please let me know if you want me to include/remove you in the tags list. Also, disclaimer: Majority of the characters are owned by Pixelberry, except the main character Heather Song.

Rafael watched from a distance as the doctors scrambled to revive her back to life. 

Seeing her actually slip away terrified him. But what was more horrific is how he could only watch on helplessly, with no ability to come to her rescue. It shook him to the core.

For so long he believed that he can be her own personal savior, her superman. But during the most crucial of times, the sinking knowledge that he simply can't fulfill the one promise he made gnawed at him life a nightmare coming to life. 

The fact that he himself had inflicted a deep wound on her heart just a few days ago crushed him all the more. 

He had no right to be here, he realized. He had already gave up that privilege on the day he chose his ego over her. It was when he decided to fulfill his fantasy of being someone else's hero, rather than coming to terms with the truth that she will never need him the way he wanted to. 

Even when the flashback of them at Donahues, where he asked her to consider taking him back, nipped at his already guilt-ridden heart. The sheer audacity of him to demand that from her, only a selfish person without care would ask someone to do that. 

The illusion that he hold onto for so long crumbled into dust. With it, was his determination to cling to what once was. 

"She's going to be okay, Raf," his silent torment was interrupted by Elijah, who approached him in the corner of the room. 

He looked up to him, then to the direction where she was laid down, and heard the merciful evenly-paced beep of the heart rate monitor. 

Relief washed over him. She lived. 

He quietly mouthed a thank you to Dr. Greene. When he was left alone yet again, he ruminated at the stormy thoughts that filled his head. 

She has suffered enough heartache for a lifetime. And for him to continue to pursue her is to only prolong her trauma and heartache over his actions. For them, there was no recovery. 

Today was not a chance to begin again. It was a chance to make it right and finally give up. 

It was then that he decided, it was time to let her go.

***

Heather woke up as she was wheeled into the hospital room. The white fluorescent light made her eyes flicker, her vision trying to adjust to the sudden brightness after a long stay in the dark. 

A baritone voice boomed into the quiet, jolting her consciousness awake. 

"Well, you put up a mighty fight today, Rookie." 

Heather couldn't help a snicker, her vision darting around to sought out the speaker. 

"I had to, or you'll probably chase me to the afterlife with your scalding commentary, Dr. Ramsey."

She heard him chuckle in response. 

"Still snarky, I see," the attending quipped, as he approached the side of her bed and pressed a button on a remote. Slowly, her upper body raised up, as the headboard elevated. She tried to curve her lips into a smile only to feel a tingling pain, making her wince a little. 

"Easy there, Dr. Song. You just went to hell and back today." Ethan said, a clipboard tucked between his fingers. 

"Funny that you say that," she said. "I still feel like hell though."

Her mentor can only manage a faint smile, an endearing affection coming across his piercing blue eyes. She knew that look. It was the same kind of gaze she saw him give Dolores during her intern year. A subtle look of genuine concern which she attributed to their growing relationship as mentor and protege. 

It was just a matter of seconds before that look vanished, replaced by a more formal version. 

"It's going to be a couple of days of recovery for you," he explained. "You suffered from severe hyperkalemia, which, with the help of your friend from the DA, we have managed to de-escalate as soon as possible."

Heather couldn't help but blink at what was just mentioned. "I'm sorry, my friend from the DA?"

"Yes, ADA Lahela was able to identify the correct chemical compound within the first half hour after you arrived here," he paused as he checked the flow of her IV. "It aided us to do the proper intervention in the nick of time."

He was right. Anymore than 30 minutes into the system, potassium chloride would have bound to the blood cells and would have caused permanent, if not fatal damage in her system. 

She'll have to thank Bryce the first chance she gets. Her memories went back to their last conversation, and she shivered at the unavoidable confrontation that will take place. 

Her hands trailed up to her temple, where she felt a bandage. She recalled her fall, thinking it was how she got wounded. 

"Ah, yes. We're going to do an MRI for that, just to make sure we're not missing anything else. But apart from that, you'll do alright." He concluded. 

"Thanks Dr. Ramsey," her appreciation was sincere.

He nodded. He was about to express something else, when a knock on the door hindered him. 

Both of them swiveled at the visitor. Heather swallowed hard as the dark brown eyes looked back at her, the familiar figure standing by the doorway. 

"May I come in?" Rafael said with a hint of hesitation as he put a foot forward.

Ethan Ramsey twisted his gaze back to Heather, checking if he would allow the young man in. Although he saw her body tense, she lightly nodded.

"Sure, Agent Aveiro. We're just about finished here." the attending gently patted Heather's hand. "I'll see you in the morning, Rookie."

When Dr. Ramsey departed, Raf made his way towards her, as if in a daze. Heather bit her lower lip and touched the tips of her brunette fringes. The thin tube of the IV tangled in her arm giving her an excuse to avert her eyes away from his for a few seconds.

"Are you doing alright?" Raf asked, taking a seat on the standard-issued metal chair beside her bed.

"Yeah, I'm okay, I've been through worse." she mumbled, almost whispering.

A sharp pang of contrition reverberated within him, unsure of which ordeal she just called as a better alternative than what she just went through. Although his adultery was probably a main contender.

His head bowed low as if navigating through the warring indecision between his heart and mind. While distracted, a soft pitter-patter of rain slid against the glass window. It was as if nature was conspiring against him, yet another heaven-given sign that their end was inevitable.

How can ending a relationship be made easier? There was no path that would prove to be less difficult, except for an admission of the truth. The least hurtful road to traverse is the turn towards an honest confession that what they had has intersected with their own definition of their limits. 

Rafael cleared his throat, the noise making Heather face him.

"Heather," he began. "I know I promised to be the person who you can turn to, anytime you needed." His lips quivered, fumbling with the right words to say. 

"But I broke that," he simply said, reaching for her hands and lacing it with his. His head dropped so low in between his shoulders that his cheek touched the fabric of her hospital blanket.

Her eyes shone as she slowly took in his words, soaking in the finality of the tone he uttered them with. When she survived her kidnapping tonight, she initially thought she won a battle. But only hours after, they were losing the war.

Rafael's tears soaked through the white sheet, like the rain that drowned the street outside the sullen, sterile hospital room. His muffled groans of defeat echoed through the silence that crawled in between. Although his heart burst in a million shards, deep down he knew it was ultimately for the best.

They couldn't remember how long they stayed still. Eventually, he lifted his head where his gaze fell upon the softness of her features. His thumb gently grazed her cheek, asking for permission.  She nodded, an unspoken agreement similar to what she used to give him before.

In a heartbeat, their lips met, savouring the taste of each other, fully aware that this will be the very last time. The kiss was sweet, but tainted bitter by their unspoken farewell. When they pulled apart, there was no question that it was the end of the road for them. 

There was nothing left to say.

But before they separated, a set of amber eyes witnessed the ending of their love affair, misinterpreting it as a last ditch effort to salvage the remnants of their irreparable relationship. 

The prosecutor fled from the hospital room without so much as a word, unnerved by the scene that put another blow on his own pursuit of love. 

Tags: @eleanorbloom @ramsey-lahela @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

***

Author's Notes 2: Although Rafael is still my OTP, what he did in the beginning of this series rendered him and Heather permanently broken. Cheating, no matter the justifications, will always be cheating. And dealing with the consequences of it, especially by the offended party, will be a hard mountain to summit. Raf chose to let Heather go, and for me, that proves that he loves Heather enough, so that he could spare her from further emotional trauma. She has more than enough to deal with now.

[cake-writes]

Fire Breather (Part Seven)

Pairings: Steve x Reader x Dark!Steve, Implied Steve x Peggy

Chapter Warnings: Deceptively Dark!Steve, Fluff, Angst, Alternate Timeline, Reader Has Powers, 18+

Summary: It all made sense now why he wanted to go alone, why he’d been so distant with you lately. Steve had planned this. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision like yours. And yours, well – it changed everything.

Part Six / Master List

A call of your name made you stop dead in your tracks in front of the elevators. You hadn’t gotten very far, and while you still felt like you were on the verge of panic, hearing Steve say your name again calmed you in a way that nothing else could. Reassuring, almost. Comforting.

When you turned around, face flushed from humiliation and eyes burning with unshed tears – you saw him looking at you just like your Steve used to, full of love and adoration and worry. You knew you weren’t the same ‘you’ he’d married, just like he wasn’t your Steve, but there was still an indescribable pull between the two of you.

“I’m sorry,” he told you, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry. You just— You look so much like her, and I can’t...”

His sentence trailed off as you took a step closer to reach out for him before you slowly, hesitantly brought your hand up to the side of his face. You already knew what he meant to say, that he almost couldn’t differentiate between the two of you. It was a feeling you knew well. 

None of this felt real, but somehow, he did. The fact that you could touch him was proof of that. Beneath your palm you could feel the familiar heat of his skin, and his stubble; he hadn’t yet shaved since today’s early wakeup.

His stunning blue eyes were on yours, wide and alarmed and you were sure yours were, too. An unasked question danced within them: what are you doing?

You didn’t have an answer. What were you doing? He was a stranger, and yet, he didn’t feel like one. Not really. There were definitely some differences, but there were more similarities than not and you found yourself wanting to discover more.

It was stupid.  All it was going to do was get you hurt again, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“You look like him, too,” you admitted quietly.

That was when his large hand came to rest atop your own, and your heart skipped a beat at his gentle touch. He was so, so careful with you now, a stark contrast to the brutal way he’d treated you when you first arrived and you finally understood why. If you were dead, here, then no wonder he was suspicious of you. He had every right to be. They all did.

When he brought your hand to his lips, the breath caught in your throat.

“I want to know what happened,” he whispered against your sensitive skin, pressing a kiss to your palm with such tender familiarity that your heart ached. “Have lunch with me.”

Even now, his honesty made you weak. As much as you didn’t want to discuss what happened between the two of you in your own timeline, you wanted to be honest with him, too.

“Okay,” you responded breathlessly, and he smiled at you – a genuine smile directed right at you, one you hadn’t seen in weeks and, at the same time, never. Then he kissed your knuckles once, and let you go.

You immediately missed his touch.

“The weather’s nice today. Maybe we could go for a walk by the lake?” he suggested, before he rushed to add, “Do you have a lake in your–?”

You found yourself smiling, too.

“Yeah, Stevie. I do.” His nickname slipped off your lips too easily, and as soon as you realized what you’d said, your cheeks started to burn and you looked away in embarrassment. You knew you should apologize, but at the same time you didn’t want to because it just felt right. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay,” he cut you off, but his tone was kind. “You don’t have to apologize.”

That same kindness was what inspired you to meet his eyes again. The nickname must have caught him off guard, because he was rubbing at the back of his neck just like the Steve from your timeline used to do. He was embarrassed, too.

“Meet you downstairs at 11?” you offered. “A walk sounds nice.”

At that, he gave you a sheepish smile. “Sure. See you at 11.”  

Then, after one final, awkward pause, he made his way back to the meeting room. You knew that you should have gone with him, tried to explain yourself to the group – but you couldn’t handle that yet. Instead, you kept your eyes on him until he turned the corner.  

Getting ready for your date, if you could even call it that, proved to be difficult. While most of the things in your closet were pretty enough, they weren’t your style even if they did fit like a glove. Actually, that was one of the many reasons why they weren’t your style: all of your clothing here was form-fitting, and in deep, dark colours that would suit someone like Natasha – a femme fatale, not you.

It made you wonder what the ‘you’ in this timeline was like.

“FRIDAY,” you spoke aloud, slowly flicking through the many garments hanging in your closet. “Has my security clearance been fixed?”

You hadn’t been able to access anything because your security clearance ended when you died. Now that you were very clearly alive, you were hoping that Tony would have sorted it out.

“Affirmative,” she responded. “What would you like to know?”

“Tell me about, uh… me.”

So she did. She rattled off a lot of information, and you found that most of it was the same: your birthday, your parents, most of your history. You got your powers in the same way, and you became an Avenger around the same time, too. There were a lot of similarities.

When she started to talk about your relationship with Steve, however, you faltered and dropped the black bodycon dress in your hands. It felt like you were intruding on something private, especially when she regarded you – the ‘you’ from this timeline – as “Mrs. Rogers.”

That said, it appeared that you’d never officially changed your name. You understood why. If it was common knowledge that the two of you were married, then you’d most certainly be a target. Then again, it made you frustrated because you’d always wanted to take his last name. You’d been waiting for him to ask for years, but he never did. 

Now you knew why. He’d always wanted Peggy to have it.

A few photos came up on your tablet, then, photos of the wedding that instantly had your stomach in knots. The white dress was everything you’d ever imagined, and so was Steve. He looked incredibly attractive in a tux, but more than that, he was happy. It was a particular brand of happiness you’d never seen before – not even from the Steve from your timeline.

You wondered if Peggy got to see it in the end.

As you distractedly flicked through the photos, you found that Natasha was your maid of honour and, predictably, Bucky was Steve’s best man – but what caught your attention the most was how different you looked. 

How different she looked.

She had your face, but about her was an air of confidence that you’d never had. The bright red lipstick was one indication of it, and a couple of tattoos were another. On her left wrist was a phrase you couldn’t quite make out, and on the back of her neck was one more, a small flower.

When you looked closer, you noticed some scarring, too. While you definitely had a few – they came with the territory – she had a great deal more.

You may have looked like her, but the two of you seemed so incredibly different. You were once again vaguely reminded of the femme fatale stereotype, something you’d never, ever been. No, where she was bold and confident and sexy, you were anything but. You were indecisive. You were confident, sure, but not nearly as much – particularly where she seemed to prefer tight, dark clothing, you liked soft pastels and airy florals.

With an indignant huff, you sat the tablet down onto the desk and turned back to the closet in front of you. None of it really suited a lunch date, but you begrudgingly found something to wear anyway: skinny jeans ripped in the knees and a pair of black converse. In one of the dresser drawers, you found a white t-shirt – presumably Steve’s, considering the size – and you pulled it on, tying the loose hem in a knot at your waist.

It wasn’t exactly ideal, but the lighter colours made you feel more like yourself and less like an imposter.

Deep down, some part of you wanted to make a point that you weren’t her. Why, you weren’t exactly sure. It could have stemmed from insecurity, or maybe it was a way of getting back at him. Either way, the only thing you did know was that, for some stupid reason, you were looking forward to seeing him despite the conversation you knew would follow.

A couple of minutes until eleven, you took the elevator downstairs, humming to yourself the whole way. When you reached the bottom floor, the doors opened with a ‘ding’ and you spotted Steve standing by the entryway in a grey t-shirt, hands shoved deep inside the pockets of his jeans.

You didn’t notice until you saw those pictures that he looked different, now, too. There were fine lines at the corners of his eyes and on his forehead, evidence that nearly a decade had passed since the photos were taken. He looked the same as your Steve – weary and battle-hardened – but the happiness you’d seen in those photos was long gone.

At least, until he heard your approach and when he turned to greet you, the words just didn’t come. Instead, you noticed a spark of that same happiness in his eyes as he drank you in.

The Steve from your timeline had never looked at you like that.

As flattering as it was, you quickly found yourself feeling a little insecure. Maybe you were dressed too casually. Maybe he recognized that you were wearing his shirt. Maybe you should have just dressed like her.

Those worries were quickly forgotten when he stooped to collect a small basket from the floor next to him – lunch – and then he offered you his free hand like he’d done it a thousand times before. He probably had, whereas the Steve from your timeline certainly hadn’t. Not in a long time.

You accepted it far too easily, and the feeling of his hot skin against yours made your heart race. The conversation was light and simple, not awkward in the least despite how flustered you were – and then, about halfway to the lake, Steve slid his fingers between yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.  

To you, it was.

The rest of the way to the lake, you let yourself believe that it was real. You’d allow yourself this one single thing, because you didn’t have anything left to lose, not anymore. You weren’t proud of it, but you missed this. His affection. His kindness. His love.

You wanted to believe it was real, and for a moment, you did.

When you finally reached your destination, the two of you settled in on one of the benches. His shoulder brushed against yours as he unpacked the basket, and when he held out a couple of sandwiches to you, you realized that they were your favourite. He’d made them especially for you.

The weather really was perfect. It was sunny and warm, and you couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. 

It all felt so real.

Then he asked you a question that shattered your delusion, and with it, your good mood.

“Who is Peggy?”

Part Eight

Tags:  @isysen, @clevercamijo, @reerrrrskillz, @titty-teetee, @awkward117, @sebabestianstan101, @jennmurawski13, @stupendousshepherdloverpony, @flowersbound, @mom---nicole, @clevercamijo, @argonclearhero, @unlikelygalaxygiver, @justendlesssummerfeels, @hayleymoondance, @patzammit, @fairytaleprincess8314, @kali-rogers, @blameitonthecauseway, @raekenliar, @lumar014, @kawairinrin, @flowerchild1216, @shayrey, @capsgrl

[icecubelotr44]

Clear and Present Danger (3/16)

Summary:  Homicide detective Killian Jones has been searching for a way to bring Milah’s murderer to justice. There’s only one small problem: Robert Gold is the captain of the same homicide division. Enter Emma Swan, Internal Affairs investigator, looking into Gold’s shady dealings. Between the two of them, can they unravel the web of deals and lies that have gotten Gold to where he is?

Rated:  T, for violence, some dark themes, angst, and whump (you expected different?

TW: character death, mention of past self-harm, fatal car accident, school hostage situation

Other ships: mentions past Millian in a good light, Outlaw Queen, Snowing

Art credit/link: The totally awesome @cocohook38 made the cover you can see above and on her blog here. Later in the story, she’s illustrated some key points to the fic and I can’t thank her enough for her work!  Go show her some love!

Beta reader: @gusenitsaa took on this monster without probably knowing exactly what she was getting into (what do you mean 100,000 words?!) and any mistakes that you find are probably me being stubborn and ignoring her advice!  Thank you!

A/N:  Written as part of the 2018 Captain Swan Big Bang Challenge.  You can catch up with all the other fics that are complete by following @captainswanbigbang and/or subscribing to the Group Collection on AO3 and/or the C2 on FFN. This is complete in 16 parts and will be posted every Sunday from now until its completion.

Take it away, It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Word count:  ~ 6,250 (100k Total in 16 chapters)

From the beginning: AO3 / FFN

Current Chapter: ao3 | ffn

CHAPTER THREE: Reasonable Suspicion 

Killian’s ears were still ringing from the blow the woman had landed across his jaw.  His lungs had only just started working again and he was sure that there would be bruises to hide from Liam in the morning.  To say that she’d taken him by surprise was an understatement.  He watched her carefully, the glint of the sun on the metal in her hand enough to keep him on edge.

“Gold… murdered someone,” Emma repeated, playing idly with the blade.  It wasn’t a question, but Killian nodded reluctantly anyway.

“I… I can’t prove it.”  He scrubbed a hand over his face to hide his frustration at that before he continued.  “Yet.  The bloody crocodile was in the station when it happened and everything I’ve turned up is dead ends.  But I know he was responsible.  I know he killed her.  And if you’re here to investigate him, then-”

“How do you know that I’m investigating him?” she asked, and he could hear the suspicion dripping off every word.

Killian shrugged.  “You weren’t doing much to hide it.  And there’s not much else going on in the office other than Gold’s hubris, lass.  Not that would draw IA’s attention, anyway.  But I meant what I said, you can’t trust Isaac.  He’s so far into Gold’s pocket that I’m pretty sure they’re wearing the same pants.”

The woman nodded.  “I figured that out for myself, thanks.”

“Oh, you’re a tough lass.”  Killian was thrilled to see her finally fold up the knife and stuff it into a pocket.  “May I have the pleasure of your name now, Miss...?”

“Detective Swan,” she said, sticking out her hand for him to shake.  “Emma.”

Killian took her hand and, ignoring the widening of her eyes in surprise, pulled it up to kiss her knuckles in a show of exaggerated chivalry.  

“Pleased to meet you, Swan,” he said over her knuckles, tightening his grip when she tried to pull away.  “I think we’re going to make quite the team.”

She scoffed.  “Who said I was going to work with you?”

“The way I see it, we’re looking for the same thing.  We can either keep working separately, or” - he shrugged again, still refusing to let go of her hand - “we can pool our resources.  Put Gold and whoever’s making it so easy for him to sit pretty in that office behind bars.”

Emma smiled sweetly, drawing a grin from him that he couldn’t help, before she struck, twisting his grip around until she had him shoved face first against the brick.

“Bloody-”

“Let’s get one thing straight, buddy,” she interrupted his cursing.  “Your charm might work on someone else, but not me.  You give me what you have on Gold and maybe… maybe I’ll think about keeping you in the loop.  But I’m not going to just trust you because you say so.  For all I know, you’re just as far into Gold’s pocket as your buddy Isaac.”

“I’d never be caught dead working with him,” Killian muttered against the wall, chagrined to realize that she had him completely incapacitated.  “We’re on the same side, luv.”

“Not your love.  You can call me Detective.”  She released him as quickly as she’d restrained him, stepping back and glaring before he could even turn around.  She was strong, she was guarded, and she was dangerous.  But she wanted Gold behind bars and he’d worked with less in the past.  

“Detective,” he allowed with a nod, “I think we can help each other.  And you could use someone on the inside, yeah?”

He could see her mulling it over, the indecision written on her face as clearly as words on a page.  There was something about her, despite the knife she’d pulled on him. He knew her job wasn’t easy, knew that the majority of their colleagues would rather vilify her than praise her for taking an impossible job and making it hers.  But there was more than that hiding in the depths of her eyes.  A deeper hurt that resonated with him.  She had the look of someone who’d been thrown away like garbage and it made Killian all the more grateful to remember that Liam had always been there for him.

Even if he was going to take the long way home to avoid the Spanish Inquisition and resultant mollycoddling that was going to come the second Liam saw the bruise forming on his chin.

Her eyes narrowed, searching him, and Killian waited for her to make a decision.

He smiled in triumph a moment before she sighed.  “I don’t like working with partners, Jones.”

Killian waited.  She was going to let him help, he just had to be patient and not push it.

“But you’re right” - it sounded as if it cost her something to admit that - “that it wouldn’t hurt to have a set of eyes and ears that your coworkers wouldn’t expect.  We do this my way, got it?”

“Of course, Swan.  You’re in charge.”  Killian held out his hand to shake hers again.

She glanced at it.  “I’m not going to kiss your knuckles, you know.”

His answering grin was so wide that his cheeks hurt., but Emma didn’t seem to notice.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jones.  Watch your back, all right?”

“I’ve got plenty of people in my corner who will do that for me, lass.  Keep your eyes up, yeah?”

Killian thought he heard her mutter, “Must be nice,” before she disappeared around the corner.  He nodded to himself, turning back to the main road and heading towards the subway station.  There was a kernel of hope that hadn’t been there before, a tendril of possibility that Killian wanted to grab onto with both hands and tug.  He wasn’t the only one anymore, the only one who saw Gold as more than just an untouchable and necessary evil.  Still, they’d have to tread lightly.  Gold wouldn’t hesitate to take them down to keep himself safe.

“Jones?” Locksley called, pulling Killian out of his thoughts.  “What are you doing down here, mate? Get lost?”

Killian knew he was joking - mostly - but he could hear the worry in his tone.  “Aye mate, thought I parked the Benz down here.”  He managed to keep a straight face long enough for Robin’s hand to twitch towards the phone on his belt.

“Bugger off!” Robin spat when the grin on Killian’s face gave away the joke.

Killian sobered immediately at Locksley’s tone.  “I’m sorry,” he apologized, moving out of the alley to catch up with his partner.

Robin glared at him before walking towards the subway station.  “We were all worried, you know. You woke up in the ER and you didn’t know Liam.”

What?

Killian whipped his head around to catch Robin’s eye and he grabbed his partner’s arm when Locksley wouldn’t even look at him.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you that,” Robin grumbled.

Some of Liam’s hovering over the past few weeks started to make more sense.  His brother could give the fiercest mama bear a run for her money on a good day, so Killian hadn’t thought too much about it.  He couldn’t have named the emotion half-hidden in Liam’s eyes every time he’d fussed over Killian, not then.  But he also didn’t remember much between seeing Hades in the alley and waking up to Liam’s mother henning in the hospital room he’d suffered through forty-eight hours of observation with ill disguised grace.

Maybe not so much on the ‘disguised’ end of the spectrum.

“I don’t remember that,” he muttered when Robin’s concerned stare went on too long.

His partner nodded.  “We figured as much.  And Liam said not to say anything when you woke up again and everything had seemed to settle.”

“Of course he did,” Killian mumbled under his breath amidst a sigh.

Fear.  That was what Liam had been trying in vain to suppress.  Killian had scared him again.  While he remembered only a knock to the head, Liam had been forced to wait for him to wake up, not knowing if he’d remember his own brother when he did.

There had been plenty of scares in their careers - they were both police officers, after all - and injuries were par for the course.  Both he and Liam had spent their share of sleepless nights at their brother’s bedside and the fear that came with that was all-encompassing, but mostly fleeting.  It had to be, or they’d never get back out on the streets.

But Killian remembered when Liam had woken up shaking and couldn’t stop - not quite seizing, but close enough to send a tendril of pure terror coursing through him.  He remembered how close he had stayed those first few weeks as the neurotoxin settled in Liam’s bloodstream and allowed him to resume most of his daily activities. He remembered that fear.  That was what Liam had been dealing with over the last couple weeks as Killian recovered.  The unknown quantity.

Didn’t mean that Killian wasn’t going to find a way to exact revenge for the super glue, though.  It wouldn’t do to let Liam - and by extension, David - think they could get away with nonsense like that just because they were ‘older and wiser’ as it were.

He and Robin parted ways at the corner, the bustle of the city at rush hour serving to make the headache that Swan had exacerbated even worse.  It would be sheer luck if Liam didn’t take one look at him and blow a gasket.  He recalled a scene in one of the Harry Potter movies where Harry had been locked in his bedroom - it didn’t take too much of an imagination to picture Liam trying the same tactic.

Swan occupied his thoughts on the ride home, their two brief interactions playing on a loop as he pondered over her - who was she really?  What made her tick?  Why had she chosen to go into Internal Affairs?  She was clearly tough enough to be on the streets and he didn’t think that outside perceptions of her would have swayed her away from a beat patrol before moving up the ranks.

What does she have on Gold?

Killian hadn’t been this intrigued by a woman since the day he’d first set eyes on Milah.  He’d been sitting alone in Finnegan’s Tavern, a bottle of Sam Adams forgotten on the table in front of him and his brother off in another corner of the bar getting them something to eat.  She’d been stunning to look at, sitting by herself as well and nursing a glass of wine as sharp eyes darted around the room.  Her curls falling loose over her back, the lost look in her eyes, all of it intrigued him and he wanted to know more.

It hadn’t taken long for Killian to forget that Liam was even there with him; he’d approached her and been regretfully turned down that evening, but she hadn’t left his thoughts.  Who was she and why did she look so sad?

Every minute with her was a gift - and Gold had torn it from his grasping fingers.  She’d been Killian’s for a few precious-

“What the bloody hell happened?” The voice broke through his musings.

Killian sighed audibly.  As expected, he’d barely managed to get the door open before Liam had pounced on him.  He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, if only in deference to the headache, and waited for the inevitable inspection.

“You’re supposed to be on deskwork!”  Liam stomped through the kitchen, reaching out to turn Killian’s head closer to the light.  Killian hadn’t seen the bruise yet, but he could feel it - blood pooling hot and pulsing just under the skin of his jaw, a stark reminder of what it was to be on Emma Swan’s bad side.  Liam poked at the bruise, drawing a hushed grunt of pain and - if possible - the frown on his brother’s face deepened to new levels.

Mindful of what Robin had let slip, Killian tolerated the inspection as patiently as he could manage, for as long as he could manage.  It didn’t take too long before he was batting Liam’s prodding fingers away anyway.  “It’s fine, brother.  I spent the entire bloody day sitting at my desk twiddling my thumbs like a good boy, all right?”

The smirk on Liam’s face flashed for only an instant before it was hidden behind a mask, but Killian didn’t miss it.  He glared and pointedly didn’t mention the super glue nor the fact that he likely still smelled like nail polish remover.  He just wanted a shower and some ibuprofen and something to drink.

“So how’d you get the bruise then?” Liam asked, his fingers twitching like he wanted to poke and prod at it some more.

Killian moved safely out of reach before he snarked back.  “I was attacked by a Swan on my way home. It took us awhile to come to an understanding.”

Liam just blinked.  Killian waited just long enough to see the confusion start to turn to concern before he cracked a smile, waving his brother off and rooting through the fridge for a drink.  The shower would have to wait until Liam was satisfied, but at least he could get rid of the cottony feeling in his mouth.

“Killian!”

He sighed.  “Relax, brother.  I’m fine.  There’s an IA officer looking into Gold.  She and I… we didn’t get off on the right foot, so when I went to try again…” he trailed off, waving over his jaw.

Liam snickered, a look on his face that left Killian’s ears red.  “I assume you put things right, little brother?”

“Younger, Liam,” he whined, cringing a little at how petulant he sounded.  It wasn’t a new argument and, truth be told, it wasn’t one Killian ever expected to win.  He didn’t even mind too much when Liam didn’t acknowledge the ‘correct’ moniker as he moved to pull dinner out of the oven.  It would be all too easy to make a remark about him becoming a good housewife and Killian patted himself on the back for not giving in to the temptation.

It was a close call, but he’d plan something better in retaliation for his desk.

Emma sunk into the steaming bath water with an audible sigh.  She’d left the light off, several candles burning away merrily and filling the small room with soothing scents.  There was a glass of wine on the bath caddy and a book lying face down that she only sort of intended to read.  It didn’t take too long for the heat to seep into Emma’s muscles and she relaxed into a boneless heap in the water.  However much she had intended to leave work at work, she couldn’t get that interaction with Jones out of her head.  She had no reason to feel bad; he’d been sneaking up on her, she had plenty of experience with loyal cops showing her how they felt about her investigations, he’d been sneaking up on her.

And yet.

Killian Jones was far more than a pretty face.  If he was telling her the truth, he’d been grievously wronged by Gold and could be a valuable asset in her investigation.  The key was to get in and get out without getting attached.  He was a tool in her arsenal, nothing more.  His sarcastic quips and the over-the-top chivalry weren’t going to change anything - she was at the precinct to do a job and that was it.

Bringing someone like Gold to justice would more than make her career.  It would make the other detectives start to take her seriously, a woman in a man’s world.  She would love nothing more than to wipe the indulgent smirks off the faces of the men in her office.  It might be nice to be able to peek out of the armor a little bit. Occasionally.

The water slowly cooled and her glass ran dry, but Emma still lingered in the half haze of sleep that she’d slipped into.  It was simple here, in the sanctuary of her apartment, away from all the drama and the politics and the intrigue of her cases and her interoffice relationships.  She didn’t have to hide behind the mask she’d crafted or question every interaction she had.  Here, there was just her and the safety of her loneliness.

When the water was finally a few degrees too cold to be comfortable, Emma stood and wrapped herself in a towel.  She tried not to bring her work home with her; it was hard enough to deal with it during work hours.  But with the addition of Jones to her arsenal - and her constant thoughts, it seemed - she’d have to come up with a new plan of attack.  Emma wasn’t used to having to consider another person on her side in her investigations.  They’d tried to rope her into working with a partner before but it never stuck.  They were too inept or she was too prickly, too stubborn, too set in her ways to listen to their ideas.

It was better if she worked alone, that was all there was to it.

Over the next few days, Emma did what Emma did best: she ignored Killian Jones completely.  She had plenty of interviews to conduct and spent half of her time driving across the state to follow up with the men and women Gold had put behind bars as well as some he hadn’t.  They all had precisely the same thing to say about him.

Absolutely nothing.

Emma didn’t need her ‘super power’ to tell that they were - to the very last man - terrified to speak out against Gold.  Someone had gotten to them before her and had bought their silence.  It left her irritable and exhausted, unwilling to play the game when Isaac cornered her in the bullpen to “see what she needed.”

She needed to punch someone in the face.

As it was, putting her fist across Isaac’s jaw probably wouldn’t do anything but get her suspended and put the investigation that much further behind.  Instead, she plastered on a smile that she hoped looked sincere enough to pass muster and asked for another batch of files that had nothing to do with Gold or the charges against him, hoping that the little weasel would run back to his master and crow about her apparent ineptitude.  She’d have to steer the investigation formally towards Gold at some point, but she needed something concrete to go on before then.  All she had right now were allegations and rumors that were - so far - unfounded.  Emma didn’t believe for a moment that the accusations listed in her file were false, but she needed to find some kind of evidence.  Even the evidence from the investigation into Milah Gold was hazy at best and - as Jones had said - didn’t point to Gold’s involvement at all.

The case had, very pointedly in fact, implicated Killian Jones in her murder.  Even if Emma hadn’t heard it in his voice the day she’d nearly knocked him out in that alley, she was no longer uncertain about how much Jones had loved Milah.  It was written all over the interrogations, the track the evidence had taken, in every entry from the detective who’d investigated.  Killian had been cleared quickly - which surprised Emma given Gold’s power - but the damage must have been done.

The problem was, it was all too clean.  There was no way that the woman’s brake lines had been cut and no one had been spotted near her car in the police station’s parking garage.  The video surveillance gave Emma - and anyone else who had investigated, namely K. Jones on a near-weekly schedule - a perfect view of Milah’s car.  Emma watched as the woman got out of the vehicle and walked out of frame, then stared at nothing of note for the half hour she’d been gone, and finally saw her come back to her car and drive away.

All of it was too clean.  Every case that Gold had closed, every murderer that he’d convicted, on paper they were all perfectly by the book.  Every ‘i’ was dotted and every ‘t’ was crossed.  On paper, there was no reason to suspect that he’d ever stepped a toe across the line.  But all it took was one look at him to know that he was dirty.  All it took was one readthrough of the case file that had been compiled to get the sick feeling in her stomach.  Gold needed to be tried for his crimes and, hopefully, the evidence against him would be compelling enough that not even whoever was backing him would come out with their hands clean.

That was Emma’s job, and she looked forward to the end results.  She did not, however, enjoy the monotony that came with trying to keep her investigation under wraps.  She had Isaac pull Jones’s case files today, trying to get a glimpse into the lieutenant’s process in attempts to understand him better.  The mole at her side grinned snidely when he’d commented that it was only a matter of time before Jones was investigated.

“His promotion was a little too convenient,” he crowed before elbowing her in the side in apparent camaraderie, “if you know what I mean.”

Emma stepped pointedly away and resisted the urge to roll her shoulder and stretch where he’d impacted her ribs.  Instead, she smiled in feigned interest and cocked her head to the side.  “Oh, really?” she asked, hoping Isaac would latch on to the ruse.

He did.

“Oh yes, I could tell you all about Lieutenant Jones and how he came to be in our humble department.  Did you know that he was still on patrol just over a year ago?”

She hadn’t.

“Captain Gold requested that his promotion track be accelerated personally.  I’ve never understood it, of course.  Jones is nothing but a problem.  The captain tolerates him, but if you ask me, there’s something fishy about it, because the two of them… well, to say they’re like cats and dogs would be insulting to those poor animals.  And yet…” Isaac trailed off meaningfully, his eyes tracking across the bullpen to where Jones had just entered.  Instead of finishing his statement, he just shrugged as if the lieutenant’s presence was answer enough.

It didn’t make any sense.  From what she could tell, Jones was a Boy Scout.  She wouldn’t be surprised to find an Eagle Scout award in his history.  She’d known there was no way that he was being backed by Gold - even before she knew what she did about his history with the captain’s former wife.  But the mysterious benefactor… Emma didn’t know anything about him.  Yet.  It was possible that Gold was just an unfortunate middle man, or that they were both trying to force Jones into a position where he couldn’t get free of them.  It was possible, she supposed, that Jones was in on the whole thing and was playing her to get information.

Even as she thought it, the voice inside her head laughed at her.  No, Jones wasn’t involved with Gold or his backer.  If he was, then she would turn in her badge and gun and take up a job at the local Walmart.  Emma wasn’t good at people, but she was good at reading them.  It made her successful as a detective and horrible to play poker against, but she’d take the former over the latter any time.  A cop who couldn’t trust her gut was a dead cop and Emma liked breathing too much not to hone that skill.

Emma focused on Isaac’s retreating back as he headed for the file room - now he was definitely working for Gold, and not in the official capacity.  She’d do anything to have him far away from her and her investigation, if only for the drop in stress that would entail.

She almost missed the note on her desk, tucked away under the file marked K. Jones that she’d purposely left out.  Who had been near her desk?  And what did they want?  

Atlantis Marina, 8pm tonight.

It’ll be worth it.

Emma supposed she’d have to go to the marina to find out.  She wasn’t naive, but she wasn’t cautious by nature, either.  She would, however, be there well before eight in order to get the lay of the land.

Emma worked for a few more hours, digging into Killian’s past just in case her gut was wrong.  She finally dug past the insubordination claims that Gold seemed to file on a regular basis and burrowed deep enough into his file to find a redacted report of drunk and disorderly conduct that had never been closed or prosecuted.  Further digging, however, revealed that the date of the report coincided with the date of Milah Gold’s funeral, so Emma put it out of her mind.  If the man needed a little bit of liquid courage to say goodbye to a woman he clearly loved, then who was she to judge him?

Five o’clock came all too suddenly and Emma locked up the files she didn’t plan on taking home with her before signing out the ones she did.  With evening traffic, it could take twenty minutes or it could take forever to get to the marina, and she wanted plenty of time to walk the perimeter and see if she could get an upper hand on whoever had left the note for her.  At the very least, she wanted escape routes and a good vantage point of the entrance before whoever planned on meeting her showed up.  Emma texted the address to Ruby and Dorothy in case she needed back up, but declined their offer to come down and stake out the place.  She had a sneaking suspicion as to whose handwriting that had been, and didn’t think she’d need any of the precautions she was taking.

But Emma had been burned before.

The marina was well maintained.  The lights in the parking area and along the docks provided very few shadows that someone could ambush her from and there were men and women in security uniforms patrolling the docks at random intervals.  Emma found that she already had a reserved parking space in the guest lot, and the attendant there knew who she was - pointing out that the boat she was looking for was in its slip on B-dock.

The Jolly Roger.  

Emma could see it from where she was standing on another dock - she wasn’t entirely sure which dock it was - sitting jauntily in the water and inviting her to come aboard.  As if a boat could be jaunty and inviting.  There were lights on in the… she thought it was called a cockpit but wouldn’t lay money down on it.  But no one was aboard.

It wasn’t new by any means, but it was clearly well cared for.  The hull gleamed in the lights and the name on the back was crisp-lettered and pristine.  There were a few dings here and there along the hull and the railing, but the metal shined and the windows were streak-free.  She had a feeling that whoever owned the boat would be put off by the small imperfections, but was clearly proud of his - or her - ownership.

“You can see her up close, if you like,” Jones’s voice whispered in her ear.

She whirled around, fists up and ready to defend herself.  There was a moment of terrifying weightlessness as she stepped back, expecting her foot to impact solid wood and instead finding open air.  Emma’s eyes widened in surprise and her breath caught in her throat even as she flailed and caught Killian’s outstretched hands.  He pulled her close and Emma latched onto his shoulders, fingers tight in his leather jacket as she tried to convince herself that she was on solid ground again.

“Damnit, Jones!” she shouted in his face.  He was terrifyingly close.

He shrugged, the muscles under her fingers bunching with the movement.  She realized, a bit belatedly, that she still hadn’t let go of him.  Nor he of her.  Emma shoved him back, putting enough space in between them that her heart finally started to slow down.  It rankled her a bit that he didn’t stumble, just swayed with the push and stood tall.

She glared at him.  “I could have fallen in!”

Killian just smirked, something dangerous in his eyes.  “That’s a plausible excuse for grabbing me, but next time, don’t stand on ceremony.”

Emma rolled her eyes.  “You wish, buddy.”

He finally stepped back, although Emma got the feeling he’d have stayed there if he thought he could get away with it.  He clasped his hands behind his back, instead, and rocked back on his heels.  “I meant what I said, though.  You can see her up close, if you like.”

Emma just looked at him in askance.

“You… you did get my note, didn’t you?”

She pulled the crumpled piece of paper from her pocket.  “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“I signed it,” he explained with a funny little grin, taking the note from her and smoothing it out against his leg.  “See?”

Emma looked where he’d turned the paper over, the small caricature of a hook and a swan in the bottom corner.  She’d seen the drawing, of course, but she still didn’t understand.  She stared at him incredulously, before asking again,  “And how, exactly, was I supposed to know it was from you?”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly sign my own name, could I?” Jones shrugged.  “Not with your little shadow combing every piece of paper on your desk at all times.  It’s all very cloak and dagger, you see, and who’s better at that than a pirate?”

Emma glanced over her shoulder to the nameplate on the back of Killian’s boat.  “You had an unhealthy obsession with Peter Pan as a child, didn’t you?”

“Never liked the little demon,” he replied, matter of fact.  “Always thought that Captain Hook was the hero of that fairy tale.”

“Even with the waxed moustache and the perm?”

Killian smirked.  “You never read the book, did you?  Captain Hook was devilishly handsome, after all.  Like me,” he preened a little.

Emma just shook her head.  He didn’t need the ego boost - clearly.  “So what are we doing here, Jones?”

“I didn’t know how else to get your attention.  You’ve been avoiding me, lass.”  Killian shrugged.  “I thought…”

“We can’t exactly be seen working together,” Emma defended her actions.  “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

She totally had.

One of Killian’s eyebrows raised pointedly.  “You might find this a surprising attribute in a detective, Swan, but I’m actually quite perceptive and this” - he gestured between them - “this is avoiding me.”

Emma nodded in spite of herself.  There was no use denying what was painfully obvious anyway.  “So… what?  You thought you’d lure me here with a mystery and…” she shrugged emphatically, waiting for an explanation.

The tips of Killian’s ears went a little bit pink.  “One of the first things my brother taught me after I graduated the academy was to limit the amount of work I brought home with me.  I know that with Isaac lurking about you’re probably trying to throw him off and that’s got to be exhausting.  I thought that you… that we could use the Jolly as some kind of, I don’t know, an in between or something.”

Emma blinked.

Killian just shrugged.  “I want to help, Swan.  I need to help put him away.  For Milah.  For… for me.  We can’t exactly advertise that we’re working together, I get that.  But I can help you.”

There was a reason Emma didn’t work with a partner.  She did her own thing, her own way, on her own terms.  The only one who she risked being hurt was her and the only one who was responsible for the outcome of her cases was her.  She had worked with someone else a time or two, but not since she’d moved to Internal Affairs; she found it just wasn’t worth it.

But maybe just this once, with a case this big and a willing pawn in Killian Jones, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.  The appeal of having someplace away from both prying eyes and her own sanctuary was strong.  Part of Emma still balked - she was better off alone, history had shown her that time and time again - but she pushed past it for the sake of her case.

“All right, Jones, let’s see this boat of yours.”

It didn’t take them long to cover the entirety of the aft cabin in paperwork.  Liam would have a fit if he decided to take her out for more than a brief afternoon, but seeing Gold’s demise come together piece by piece was worth the strife Killian knew he’d hear about.  Emma had already cobbled together a timeline of Gold’s career, listing cases and complaints alike along with his promotions and the men and women he’d promoted himself.  

Killian bristled when he saw his own name listed, the blue star next to his name signifying Gold’s personal involvement in the transfer.  “Swan, just so you know, this wasn’t… I didn’t…” he trailed off, still looking at his name on the timeline and uncertain how to explain.

Emma slid another paper over the top of that one, this one listing unsolved cases that Gold had sent to the Cold Case division.  “You can tell me in your own time,” she allowed with a small smile.

He nodded.  Killian couldn’t deny that the promotion had been a bit of grabbing the tiger by the tail.  He knew Gold had it out for him, would try his best to make Killian’s life miserable.  But Liam and David had already been in Homicide before Milah’s death and Killian had longed for the chance to work beside his brother.  Then he’d met Milah and thought that the price he would have to pay for falling for her was his dream of being partnered with Liam.  After her murder, he’d stopped caring how he got to Liam’s side, he just knew he couldn’t do it anymore without his brother.  Any of it. The transfer had seemed like the universe paying him back - a little - for stealing Milah from him.  And then Liam had been injured because of him and now… well, now it was all about taking down Gold.  Killian couldn’t deny that he didn’t really care what happened to his career after that.

Or to himself.

Maybe he should take Liam up on that offer to move to the private sector, after all.

“Are you even listening, Jones?” Emma’s annoyed question made him realize she’d been trying to get his attention for quite some time.

He shook his head apologetically, scratching behind one ear and attempting a smirk.  He could feel how forced it was and the look on Emma’s face proved that she wasn’t buying it either.  “Apologies, lass, I got a bit caught up in my head.”

“I said, it’s getting late and we should probably get out of here.  Do we need to pack this up, or…” she looked at him in askance.

Killian shook his head.  “No.  No one but myself and my brother have keys to the cabins and I’ll let him know that this is all here.”  He groaned internally at the idea of telling Liam about all this - the mess and what he was about to do next.  Regardless of Liam’s opinion on the matter, however, he reached into his pocket and handed her a keychain with a pirate ship on it.

Emma stared at it for a moment.

“It’s not going to bite you, lass.  I just thought that…” he shrugged.  “Well, you need access to the cabin and I might not always be able to get you here.  Smee is the parking attendant you met earlier; he knows to let you have the guest parking space whenever you’d like it and you’re on the list of approved guests with access to the boat.  No one will bother you.”

She finally reached out and snagged the key, turning the little ship over in her hands.  “It’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Emma asked with a smirk that made the tips of Killian’s ears go hot.

“The appeal of Neverland as a child - an escape where time would stop and I could have all the time in the world to figure out how to get what I wanted - it was intoxicating.  I guess it’s never really left me.”  He paused and raised one eyebrow.  “Although I still think the bloody demon of that island would have made life miserable there.”

Emma laughed, finally putting the key in her pocket after further inspection.  She followed him out onto the deck, but didn’t make a move to climb onto the dock again.

“And what did a young Killian Jones want that he couldn’t have?” she asked lightly, a glint of something in her eyes that Killian wanted to understand.

He shrugged in what he hoped was nonchalance.  That wasn’t a tale he was ready to get into yet.  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he deflected instead.

There was a look in Emma’s eyes that told Killian she might just understand what it was he and Liam had been searching for all those years - a home.

“Perhaps I would.”

tagging: @killian-whump, @gilliangrissom, @nothingimpossibleonlyimprobable

[prettyyoungtragedy]

Nothing like Home: Chapter 14 (Steve x reader, Bucky x reader)

Chapter 14 (Nothing Like Home)

Steve x Reader x (Angsty Steve Rogers!) Bucky x reader

Summary: Steve has found Bucky, but the relationship between the reader and Steve has gone sideways. There isn’t a happy ending here.  Steve and the reader have a tumultuous relationship. There is so much working against them at this point, yet somehow hey always end up back at square one with each other.  

 A/N: Relationships get a little blurred and indecisive. I tried to normalize life for the characters a little. I like writing them as normal as possible.

 Word Count: 1843

 Warnings: None

“Y/N!” a voice in the distance yelled, “Y/N!” again. Your head felt like it was in a hornet’s nest. You look down, your hands covered in blood, you couldn’t tell if it was your own or someone else’s, Suddenly a strong hand grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you to your feet. You were dazed and confused, your surroundings were foreign and there was glass and debris everywhere.

Again, there was a voice calling your name, repeatedly. You look in the direction of the voice, his face familiar yet his name escaping you, “Y/N,” He said again placing his hands on the side of your face, “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay,” He repeated over and over as he looked at your blood splattered body.

Your fuzzy mind finally found his name, “B-Bucky…” you stammered, He nodded a relieved look coming over his face,

“What did I do?” You ask petrified of the answer,

“Nothing that can’t be fixed, okay.” He replied pulling you into a tight embrace, “It’s going to be fine,” he promised,

But you pulled away, “Bucky, what did I do?” You demanded,

“Y/N, I... I shouldn’t be the one to tell you, let me get you back to the compound, please.” He Says,

Your heart was hammering in your chest, you knew this would happen. You tried to tell Natasha, but she didn’t listen. You had kept this part of you hidden away for so long because you knew the havoc it would unleash when it was released.

“Is everyone okay?” You asked Bucky, but he didn’t say anything, he just offered an arm for you to lean on. As you stood up you realized you had three massive gashes on your abdomen, you held your arm against it to stop the bleeding, and the minute Bucky saw the blood pouring out of the wound he stopped and pulled his shirt of, “Hold this against it,” He ordered, you obeyed and placed the shirt against your wounds, you were becoming lightheaded from blood loss and needed medical attention soon. Bucky knew this and in one fell swoop he lifted you off the ground and carried you in his arms, towards the nearby Quinjet.

Upon arriving back at the compound with Bucky and Tony, who said nothing to you the entire ride over, Bucky escorted you to the infirmary where you saw multiple doctors waiting around. They were talking quietly amongst themselves but immediately stopped when they saw you and Bucky walk in,

One of the doctors rushed forward and took you from Bucky, you were escorted into one of the rooms and then they began cutting your shirt off to get to the gashes on your stomach. “I am going to give you a general anesthetic,” the doctor said, pulling out an injection but you shook your head,

“No, no anesthetic. Just stitch me up” You said through gritted teeth, it was going to hurt like a bitch bit you didn’t care, you couldn’t go back under.

“Are you sure?” he said hesitantly

“Yes, god fucking dammit, just do it!” You snapped,

The doctor quickly brought out the tray of cleansing alcohol and needles, you were expecting stitches but then he placed a staple gun on the tray as well and looked at you.

“It’s not too late to change your mind,” He offered when he saw the look on your face, you shook your head, there was no going back now.

You screamed blue blood murder as the doctor stapled you up, each gash needed fourteen staples before the bleeding stopped, you would have three ugly scars on your body when this healed.

Tony and Steve had come into the room while you were getting stapled up, Tony sat nearby holding his head in his hand as you screamed in pain and Steve stood next to you, trying to offer you some sort of comfort.

When the doctor was done, he wrapped it in gauze and bandaged it up then looked at Steve, “She needs blood,” he said to Steve, “Or she won’t make it the night with that,” pointing at your wounds.

“I’ll organize some from the blood bank, Thanks Doc” Tony said, standing up, he was hustling the doctor out of the room before you could say anything.

Steve wordlessly handed you two pain pills and a glass of water before he sat down on the edge of the bed. Tony walked back in and shut the door behind him, you knew it was bad from the look on their faces.

They were quiet for a moment then Tony stepped towards you, “How could you not tell us?! Me?!” he seethed, “All of this could have been prevented! You witnessed what happened with Barnes, and you kept this from us! You endangered all our lives, including yours!”

You remained quiet, you had nothing to say at this point. Steve looked at you, the betrayal evident once more in his eyes, “How many more times are you going to break our trust Y/N?” he said quietly,

It felt like he had shoved a knife into your chest when he said that, all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him, but you didn’t. “How long have you been a Hydra agent?” Tony asked you, “Or better yet, how long ago did you become a winter soldier?”

“Eighty-six years ago,” You murmured, they both looked at you in shock.

“1941?” Tony asked confused, He looked at Steve for answers but Steve shrugged his shoulders.

“Who could it have been? Zola?” He was asking more Tony than you, “Like Bucky?”

“Who gave you the serum?” Tony demanded,

“My Father…” you reply softly, looking up at them, they both had a confused look on their faces.

“You father? Who? Give us a name.” Steve said,

Tears well up in your eyes, this was the moment you had dreaded your whole life. Your secret you were so ashamed of. After all these years of running and protecting your identity you were finally going to utter it out loud once more.

“Doctor Zola…” You murmured, “My father was Doctor Arnim Zola.”  

Steve and Tony stared at you mouths agape in shock. The color seemed to drain from Steve’s face the moment you uttered his name.

“How is that possible?!” Steve demanded, “Zola never had children or a wife for that matter!”

“Steve, calm down” Tony said placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Tell us how it happened Y/N,” he said softly to you

“Of course, he didn’t inform anyone of my existence!” You said raising your voice, “I was there for all of it, hidden with my mother in Switzerland. When I turned twenty-one in 1941he came to me, with vial and said I was protecting his legacy by drinking it. He said it would save my mother and I from any harm after the war, but he didn’t tell me what was to happen to me once I took it”, you paused and looked down at your hands, the memories from that day flooding back. Tears falling freely from your eyes now, “When S.H.I.E.L.D captured him, he sent word to me, telling me to go to Siberia which I did. My mother had passed away by then, so I was alone, all I had was my father who kept me hidden from the world. I was conditioned in Siberia but not kept there for long, they brought me back to America to be with him, but he didn’t want me, just my blood so he kept me in Cryostasis, for twenty-two years until he received his fatal diagnosis and your father” You pointed at Tony, “Turned his brain into a data bank.”

You looked at Tony and Steve, they both stared intently at you, waiting for you to continue story.

“After my father was gone, I was released to do Hydras bidding. My conditioned mind didn’t know any better and so I was just another soldier in their mill being pulled in and out of Cryo whenever it was useful to them until I escaped my handler, seven years ago.” You said not looking at either of them, but rather looking at your scarred hand, “And the rest as you know is history…”

When you finished, Steve sat down on one of the chairs closest to him, he was pale and quiet. Tony moved towards you, “I-I… I am at a loss for words right now,”  He said scratching his head, “You were right under our noses for so long and we never figured it out.”

“So how long have you been working for Hydra?”  Steve said, “How long have you been feeding them intel on the Avengers?”

You looked at him incredulously, “Did you not just hear me?” you exclaim, “I left that life behind! I have been running from my legacy since I was given it! I didn’t want this! Therefore, I never told you!”

You suddenly burst into tears unable to keep ahold of your emotions any longer, surprisingly it was Tony who came and placed an arm around your shoulder, as if he understood the burden you carried.

“Yeah but of all the people in your life Y/N, I would have understood it best,” Steve said dejectedly, then he stood up and began walking out of the infirmary room.

“Steve, wait please. Just listen to me” You cried out,

He paused in the doorway and then turned back to look at you, “I can’t look at your right no, I’m sorry...” He said softly, the hurt and betrayal evident on his face as he turned away and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Tony got up from next to you and sighed deeply, “I am going to be honest, Y/N… this is going to be a hard one for all of us to come back from.” He said wiping his face tiredly, “I am going to have to confine you to the infirmary for a while, just a safety precaution, you understand right?”

You nod, not wanting to fight about this anymore. You knew this was coming and you had prepared yourself for this eventuality. Your life never had a happy ending ever, as shortlived as your time with your Avengers family was, you were prepared for what was coming next.

“Tony,” you say quietly, as he is walking out,

“Yes?”

“Could you please tell Bucky, how sorry I am.” You said, tears welling again.

“Bucky?” he replied confused,

“Yes, he will understand when Steve tells him.” You mutter closing your eyes. 

Tony walks out without saying anything, and you hear the door lock click behind him. You feel your world falling apart around you as you are powerless to stop it. The life you had kept a secret was now plastered all over the compound and your secrets laid bare for everyone to see, it had been a long time coming and fate had finally caught up to you. You had to live up to your legacy or leave it behind. The choices you made from this moment forward would determine that path.

TAGS: @wildefire @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @seargantbcky @castellandiangelo and I feel this chapter is for @elaacreditava the most as she was so keen for it! ;) 

(Please let me know if you want to be added to the tags)

Part  15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20

This chapters is a bit shorter than the rest. I was trying not to cram too much information into the big reveal. I thoroughly hope you guys like reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Drop me some feedback when ya done?! :D

[ask-tinyjasper]

the sun and the moon [jaspvid]

this is an au where instead of jasper dying, it was david because i’m an angsty little shit

also i was indecisive about how i should have david die so i figured, might as well have him die by bears, just like jasper almost did!

David loved music, if it wasn't obvious already.

When he and Jasper were younger, however, David didn't want to show it. He needed to keep up his "tough guy" appearance, and so he thought showing his love for guitar and singing would make him seem weaker.

Jasper was the one who got him out of his shell.

Jasper, one year, brought his ukulele. At night, under the audience of beautiful, glittering stars, he would play soft melodies and sing to himself where the water met land. Jasper was never trying to hide the fact that he could play and sing, but rather that it wasn't one of those things that he he felt the need to bring up.

One crisp night near the middle of summer, he was watched. He was watched and observed by a certain auburn-haired boy and for three nights in a row, said boy stood silently behind a tree. He listened, completely mesmerized as if Jasper was the Pied Piper and he was under his spell. His face glowed underneath the moonlight. The auburn-haired boy could never look away, and every time Jasper was finished, he hid.

How would he begin to explain why he was just... staring?

On the fourth night, however, David made a mistake.

Something inside of David wanted to get closer. He wanted to hear Jasper's voice clearly, to see the peaceful expression on his face as he strummed on chords so that night, David risked it and crept closer. He hid behind a different tree, and he could feel his heart flutter in his chest at Jasper's song.

I'm lying on the moon My dear, I'll be there soon It's a quiet and starry place Times were swallowed up in space We're here a million miles away There's things I wish I knew There's no thing I'd keep from you It's a dark and shiny place But with you my dear I'm safe

We're here; a million miles away

x

It must have been approximately 10 pm when Jasper finished his performance, stars clapping silently with their twinkling light. Just like every night, Jasper slowly stood up, dusting off his navy blue shorts and turned around.

David slowly backed up, trying to keep out of sight. He hadn't noticed the sudden descent of the terrain, so as he inched backwards, David lost his balance and tumbled down with a little bit of grunting.

"Ow..." David grumbled to himself, looking at the scratches on his bare arms. He guessed he had some on his face, too, because there was a dull pain on his right cheek. Suddenly, he remembered what he was doing and looked up the miniature hill he fell down, embarrassment creeping up on him.

From the top, Jasper looked at him with worry. "Oh gosh, Davey, are you alright?" he asked, then cautiously made his way down the hill. Once he got to the bottom, Jasper put his ukulele down and examined David, making sure he hadn't broken anything.

"I'm... fine," David said in a small voice. He looked away from Jasper's face, the beautiful images of the boy singing underneath the moonlight flashing in his mind.

Jasper noticed the injuries on his cheek and arms, and frowned. "What were you even doing here? It's late."

David froze.

Should he... lie?

"I..." David started, cheeks reddening.  He desperately wanted to flee from the situation, but something made him stay. "I was... watching you--watching you play and sing."

This time, it was Jasper who reddened. The blush of embarrassment was a tiny bit visible at night. "Oh... that's... kind of embarrassing," Jasper stated awkwardly, laughing a bit.

David quickly apologized, then lowered his head. "For what it's worth... I think you're cool."

Jasper made a strange, almost choking noise. He thought he was cool?

"Oh wait--no no, that's not--I meant your singing and playing!!" David gasped out, waving his hands like a mad man.

Jasper chuckled a little, then picked up his uke from the ground. "Well thanks, spangler. It's getting late, though, so we should probably start heading back to camp." Jasper held out his hand to help David up. "'course, we gotta clean you up a little bit."

David looked up at Jasper and once more, something in his chest clenched.

What was wrong with him?

David took Jasper's hand.

It was the first step towards him finally opening up; his first step towards him discovering who he really was.

Jasper and David practically knew one another like the back of their hands.

After years of spending the entire summer and as much time as they could during the school year together, the two boys grew closer and closer. Jasper helped David explore parts of himself, and David even helped Jasper through some things.

Jasper didn't exactly enjoy camp. The only reason he stayed was for David, who seemingly loved it.

However, that changed quickly.

One day, David said he was going to go and get wood for something he was making. Jasper wasn't sure what exactly it was since David kept insisting it was a secret. Jasper wanted to help the boy, but he let David go by himself. He claimed he was only going to be gone for a little while; half an hour, max.

Ten minutes passed.

Twenty.

Half an hour.

Forty minutes.

Jasper grew impatient and worried while he paced back and forth in front of their shared tent. Why hadn't David come back yet? He wasn't the type to be late to things on purpose. Should he go out and look for him?

Jasper let out a loud sigh, then began running. He ran into the forest, looking around.

What if David had hurt himself? What if he was stuck underneath a log and couldn't get out?

Millions of questions ran through Jasper's mind, which only worried the sage-haired boy even more.

"Davey!" Jasper called out, stopping to turn in a circle. "Davey, can you hear me?"

Jasper got no response.

And then he did.

A very faint rustling sound came from Jasper's right side, and he snapped his head in that direction. There was a weak, familiar voice that called out his name.

"Jasp..."

He almost started sobbing right then and there. Looking at him with a pale face and a weak smile was David. Three large scratch wounds ran down his chest, crimson blood seeping through his yellow camper t-shirt.

"Davey... Davey, no, no, no, no," Jasper muttered rushing towards him. Jasper held out his arms and almost instantly, David fell right into them. Jasper's hands shook violently, mind frantically trying to figure out a way to help him, to save him.

David's head rested on Jasper's chest, Jasper holding him with one arm while the other tried to put pressure on the wounds. Blood spilled out the more he did it, though, and showed no sign of stopping.

"Jasp..." David's breathing was laboured and heavy, "I'm... sorry."

Jasper shook his head. "No. Don't apologize... you're okay. I should've been with you."

David smiled, and Jasper almost lost it.

How could he smile at a time like this? He was dying, yet he still found some way to smile?

Tears welled up in Jasper's eyes. He had to control himself. David was fatally wounded in his arms--Jasper had to be the one comforting him, not the other way around.

"I am not letting you die," Jasper said, then made an attempt at picking David up. David let out a strangled cry, and Jasper immediately stopped.

"Jasper, I'm... I'm d-done for."

The boy closed his eyes and shook his head. He wanted to wake up. He wanted to wake up from this nightmare. He wanted to wake up and see David peacefully asleep in their tent, curled up with his hair slightly hanging over his face. He wanted to see his smile, hear his bubbly laugh, feel his warm hugs.

Just then, David put a sticky hand on Jasper's cheek, eyes tearing up as well.

"I'm lying on the moon; My dear, I'll be there soon," David sang softly, a few salty tears rolling down his cheeks.

Jasper lost all self-control as a steady stream of tears made their way down his face.

He was singing the song they met with.

With a shaky voice, Jasper sang with him. "It's a quiet and starry place; Times were swallowed up in space."

The two of them sang softly underneath the shade of a large oak tree. Jasper hunched his back, pressing his forehead to David's. Both of their tears mixed together, and Jasper held on to David's hand tightly.

He didn't want to let him go.

"It's a dark and shiny place; But with you my dear I'm safe," they both sang, and Jasper could feel David's grip slowly loosen.

David looked up at Jasper, eyes taking in Jasper's face one last time. "We're here; a million..."

David didn't finish the line.

His grip on Jasper's hand was no more, and his eyes had closed completely.

"Davey?" Jasper called out softly, face red and blotchy

That's when it hit him.

Jasper wouldn't get to go out to the docks with him again.

Jasper wouldn't get to see the look of pure joy on his face while they hiked again.

Jasper wouldn't get to joke around with him again.

Jasper would get to sing with him again.

Jasper sobbed. He sobbed and sobbed until there were no more tears left for him to produce. He never moved from that position of holding David close to his body. He didn't want to let go of him ever again.

Counsellors eventually came looking for the two of them. Night had fallen and they were out with flashlights.

Jasper didn't say a word when he saw the bright light, or when he heard one of the counsellors shout "they're over here!". He didn't say a word when they came rushing over to them, or when one of them asked what had happened.

The counsellors brought David back to camp, Jasper silently following behind.

He didn't even bother washing up. He simply went down to the lake, sat at the edge of the water and tucked his knees into his chest.

Jasper looked down at his hands with a sullen look.

"I hate this camp."